


Jelly Legs

by hmweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Internalized Homophobia, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 16:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17491688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/pseuds/hmweasley
Summary: When Draco had first raised the idea of inviting old friends over for dinner, Scorpius thought he could escape to Albus' house. It turns out that isn't the case, and when talk turns to arranged marriages, the dinner ends up being more than Scorpius can handle.





	Jelly Legs

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts:  
> (words) jelly, frosty  
> Write about someone making a decision on an important matter.

Scorpius pulled the jelly of several colourful layers that he’d made from the icebox and set it on the counter with a sigh. The dessert jiggled back and forth from being jostled, and Scorpius’ legs did the same beneath him from his nerves.

He was slightly terrified; it was almost embarrassing to admit how much. When his father had proposed the idea of inviting some old friends over for a dinner party, Scorpius had thought he’d escape to Albus’ for the night. It wasn’t until his father had revealed that he wanted Scorpius to stay and meet everyone that the worries started to set in.

While none of the people on the guest list had been official Death Eaters, there were a number who had been openly sympathetic to the cause. Considering his own father’s past, Scorpius should have been giving them the benefit of the doubt, but he was sceptical. These weren’t people he’d known well as a child, and he knew there were reasons for that. He went to school with some of their children and knew firsthand how cruel some of them were to those they didn’t approve of, including him.

His father had gotten it into his head that restoring ties, no matter how cautious or casual they were, might be a good idea. The people invited were ones living what outwardly appeared to be respectable lives, and even those who still possessed questionable beliefs weren’t rallying support behind them like Voldemort once had. Scorpius still didn’t like the idea of having them in their house, even if that house had once been controlled by Voldemort himself.

If their children saw fit to dismiss him at Hogwarts, he saw no reason why their parents would be any better.

He took a deep breath before levitating the jelly with his wand. Keeping it steady took focus as his hand shook from his nerves.

It was only one evening. He’d sit through dinner, and then it would be over. Nothing could go that wrong over one dinner.

* * *

He sat his dessert on the side table in the dining room alongside the other desserts he and his father had prepared. Outside, in the hallway, Draco was talking to several of the guests who had already arrived, their voices carrying into the dining room without the words being distinguishable. Scorpius stood in front of the table, staring his rainbow-coloured jelly as he gathered his energy to converse with the guests.

Stepping into the hallway, his breath quickened at the sight of three small clusters of people engaged in conversation. They turned to look at him as he entered the hallway, but Scorpius averted his eyes towards the floor, unable to summon up the requisite polite smile.

“Scorpius,” Draco called, holding out an arm to beckon his son towards him.

Scorpius obeyed, eyeing the man across from Draco with distrust. He was large and burly, and somehow, without having met the man, Scorpius knew this was Gregory Goyle, the invited guest he was most reluctant to meet. Everything about his appearance fit with what he’d been told over the years. Though it would have been far out of the realm of appropriate pureblood behavior, Goyle could easily have pummeled Scorpius into the ground the Muggle way if he wished.

“Scorpius, I’d like you to meet Gregory Goyle.”

Scorpius forced himself to smile and shook the man’s hand, trying not to cringe as Goyle’s grip tightened around his fingers.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Goyle,” he said, inclining his head in a slight bow.

“You too, Scorpius,” Goyle said with a smirk. “He’s like a mini-you, Draco! People who said he was the Dark Lord’s son must’ve been daft.”

He gave a hearty laugh without noticing that neither Draco nor Scorpius joined him. Scorpius shared a look with Draco, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“Anyways,” Goyle said, rubbing at his chest. “I was just telling your dad about what I did in the US all these years. That’s where I went after the war, you know? Just got back to Britain a couple of months ago.”

Scorpius knew that already. The letter Draco had received from Goyle upon his return had been the impetus for the dinner party they were having. But he nodded his head politely as if he was Goyle had said something interesting.

“I had to get away from the mess in England after the war,” Goyle said. “Don’t know how you stayed her without losing your mind, Draco.” He reached out to shove at Draco’s arm, ignoring the way Draco cringed at the touch. “This place has really changed. Can’t believe Granger’s in charge of everything now. Real unbelievable.”

He shook his head with a sigh, and Scorpius fought against the urge to say something, biting down on his tongue.

“There have been some reforms,” Draco remarked, “but the overall structure of the Ministry remains the same. There’s not much Minister Granger can do without the approval of the wider Ministry. The changes have actually been quite minor compared to what many expected.”

Goyle grunted, a far away look in his eye as if he hadn’t been paying attention to a word of what Draco had said.

“Enough about politics,” he declared. “It’s a boring topic even when things are going well. Actually, the reason I’ve come back to England is to find my daughter a husband. The social structure is a bit different in the States, as I’m sure you can imagine. The most respectable families are still here in Britain I think. I wasn’t worried when she was just making friends at school, but marriage is different, you know?”

Goyle’s gaze fell on Scorpius, and Scorpius took a step closer to his father as if he meant to hide behind him.

Draco frowned at Goyle.

“Surely you don’t expect to formally arrange anything, Gregory. I haven’t heard of anyone going through a formal betrothment since we were children. Everyone chooses their own spouses these days. Everyone our age did, including the two of us.”

“Well, of course Tiara will have the final say,” Goyle said. “I’m not old-fashioned, Draco, but we have to put her in the right crowd to help her along. What kind of parent would I be if I didn’t help her sort out the wrong and right sort? She’s not much younger than your Scorpius here actually. They should meet sometime, see if they hit it off.”

“Sure,” Draco said with a slight laugh, “setting up our children when they’ve never even met sounds like a fine idea.”

Goyle raised an eyebrow.

“They’re both purebloods, and I raised my daughter right. I don’t see a reason why a marriage between them wouldn’t work. Unless you think my family name isn’t good enough to marry into the Malfoys.”

Draco’s smile fell, and he shook his head slightly.

“Excuse me,” Scorpius said suddenly. “I have to use the restroom.”

He hurried away before either of the men said another word. He felt like he was suffocating, and he didn’t want to stay to listen to his father assure Goyle that there was nothing wrong with his family name. He didn’t want to listen to his father’s assurances that a marriage between Goyle’s daughter and Scorpius would be perfectly acceptable to him.

After everything his parents had gone through to marry, Scorpius wasn’t the least bit worried that Draco would make him marry someone he didn’t love, but listening to him discuss even the possibility of Scorpius marrying a girl made him feel uncomfortable, even if it was merely to placate a guest.

Months ago, he’d made the decision to tell his father he was gay during the winter holidays, but time was running out without him having said a word. Excuses kept coming up, not least of which was the party he was currently running from. He slipped through one of the side doors of the mansions unseen by the other guests. The frosty air seeped through his dress robes immediately until he tugged out his wand and cast a heating charm.

Taking a deep breath, he sat down on the steps, looking out over the grounds of the manor. When he was alone, the idea of telling his father the truth felt easy. It was only when he was standing in front of Draco, looking him in the eye, that it became impossible to get the words out.

Draco wouldn’t force him into marriage, no, but there were certain duties that even Draco expected from the heir to the Malfoy name. One of those was producing an heir of his own, which was going to be more than a little difficult for Scorpius to pull off if he had any hope of living a happy life.

He leaned his head against the door behind him, ignoring the growling of his stomach that reminded him of the dinner inside. He couldn’t go back in. The last thing he wanted was to face Goyle, his father, or the conversation of marriage again.

* * *

The guests were gone by the time Scorpius went back inside. Though he’d used a warming charm while outside, the winter chill had worked its way inside him, and he longed to relax in front of the fire until he felt warm again.

He glanced into the dining room as he passed, finding the table laden with the remnants of the meal but with no Draco in sight. Scorpius frowned; it wasn’t like his father to leave a mess unattended.

Continuing further into the manor, he headed for the living room. He was the only one who used it frequently, as his father preferred his study, but it had the largest fireplace in the manor, which Scorpius appreciated during the winter months.

When he reached the room, he found the door cracked open, flickering fire light escaping into the hall, and Scorpius hesitated before entering to find Draco nursing a glass of whisky and looking exhausted after entertaining his guests.

“Do you need help cleaning up?” Scorpius asked from the doorway.

Draco yelped in surprise, whisky sloshing dangerously close to the rim of his glass.

“No, no,” he muttered, waving a dismissive hand before motioning to the armchair across from him. It was the one closest to the fire and where one would have expected to find Draco himself.

“I’ve gotten the worst of it already,” Draco continued. “What’s left can wait until morning.”

Scorpius raised an eyebrow, but Draco was taking a sip of his whisky and didn’t notice. Setting his glass to the side, Draco turned towards a tray Scorpius hadn’t noticed on the table beside him. He held out a platter of sandwiches, eyeing Scorpius until he took one and bit into it. He chewed slowly, his hunger long having settled into something closer to nausea that made actually eating difficult.

“You need something warm,” Draco said quietly, pouring tea into one of the cups on the tray and adding the exact amount of milk and sugar that Scorpius preferred. “It’s like the arctic outside. I don’t know what you were thinking going out there.”

On another day, Scorpius would have protested that comparison, but he didn’t say anything as he took the offered tea. He couldn’t deny that its warmth was comforting. As the tea travelled through his system, he grew warm with far more efficiency than the fire provided.

“You know,” Draco said with a small smile. “I knew you were dreading the party, but I didn’t realize how much you were dreading it until you disappeared on me. Were they really so insufferable that you decided to miss out on your favourite of duck confit?”

Scorpius thought longingly of the food that would have been served, and Draco chuckled to himself.

“We’ll have some more for dinner tomorrow,” he said, giving a decisive nod of his head. “But I’m still curious about what sent you running off, Scorpius.”

Scorpius looked his father in the eye, anxiety twisting his stomach. Telling his father the truth had been all he could think about as he sat outside, and he’d made the decision to to it that night no matter how much anxiety tried to overpower him. He’d run over what he should say a million times, and not once had it felt adequate. The whole thing was simple to him; he just didn’t know if it would be simple to his father.

Seeing his father with his face half in shadow from the fire but with a look of concern in his eyes made Scorpius come to his final decision. His father had been willing to travel through time to save him once. If he hadn’t been disowned after that bout of stupidity, he probably didn’t have much to worry about.

“I don’t want to marry Goyle’s daughter,” he said. That was the easiest part to say. He could have been as straight as a ruler and held the same sentiment. “I don’t want to marry any girl you could possibly set me up with.”

“You don’t really believe that I would arrange a marriage for you, do you?” Draco asked, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“No,” Scorpius said quickly. “Not really. It’s not a fear of an arranged marriage that got me worked up. It’s the idea that I’m supposed to marry and give the Malfoy family an heir at all.”

It was quiet for a moment, Draco’s brow furrowing as he analyzed Scorpius like a particularly complicated puzzle. That was often the case between them.

“Have I placed that pressure on you?” Draco asked, scooting forward in his chair and leaning his elbows on his knees. “As far as I’m aware, I’ve never said anything to you about producing an heir. It’s certainly not a topic I’ve bothered to give much thought.”

“But I have to, right? We’re one of the oldest pureblood families in Britain, and you can go on about how much things have changed, how much you’ve changed, Dad, but I know that part of you would be disappointed to see the Malfoy family die out.”

Silence hung between them as Scorpius tried and failed to read Draco’s expression.

“In all honesty,” Draco said, voice shaking, “this is the first time I’ve considered that possibility, and I will admit that the idea of the family being gone is...hard to wrap my mind around. I don’t know if that’s a deep seated feeling of pureblood supremacy that’s still inside me or it’s just about a sense of family, but I can safely say that I took it for granted that the family would live on. If you’re telling me that you don’t want any children…”

He trailed off, looking at Scorpius with an expectant expression. Scorpius sat his tea down, the ceramic clanking and making him cringe.

“It’s not that I don’t want kids necessarily,” he said slowly. “It’s more about how difficult it would be for me to make them?”

That had been an entirely wrong choice of words. His face heat up as what he’d said sunk in. He watched Draco grow even more confused as he tried to work out Scorpius’ meaning. The full truth fought its way up Scorpius’ throat, dying to be free.

“I’m gay, Dad. Very, very gay. It’s not just that I don’t want an arranged marriage. I don’t want to marry a girl at all. Girls are nice and everything, but they’re not… I just can’t love a girl the way you loved Mum. I’ve tried. I tried really hard, but it didn’t change anything.”

It was quiet for a moment before a small smile worked its way onto Draco’s lips which did nothing to quell the anxiety in Scorpius’ stomach.

“You tried really hard?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” Scorpius whined. “For a long time, and it didn’t work.”

“Why were you trying exactly?”

“Because…” Scorpius trailed off, realizing that he didn’t know how to answer.

He could have said that it went back to feeling like he had to do what was expected of him or that he was scared of being gay. Those would have been truthful but didn’t entirely encapsulate what had been running through his mind. All thoughts of formulating an answer dissipated, however, as he realized his father was shaking with silent laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” he snapped, wrapping his arms around his middle.

Draco shook his head, reaching out a hand to grip Scorpius’ knee. Scorpius tried to relax into the touch, but his body remained stiff.

“I’m just relieved that it finally makes sense,” Draco said carefully. “You were confusing me with all of that heir talk.”

“But you just admitted to me that you want the family to go on, and I just told you that I’m gay. And you’re laughing.”

Draco sighed, his grip on Scorpius’ knee tightening.

“Scorpius, what I’ve wanted more than anything for you since the moment you were born was for you to be happy. I know that sounds like one of those cheesy things that parents are meant to say whether it’s true or not, but I can assure you that it’s true. Any desire that I may or may not have for there to be future generations of Malfoys means nothing in comparison to your happiness, and that will always be true.”

He stood, and for a moment, Scorpius thought he was going to leave him, but he didn’t. Instead, he precariously perched himself on the arm of Scorpius’ chair, and wrapped his arm around Scorpius to pull him to his side. Scorpius couldn’t even find it in himself to cringe when Draco messed with his hair. Tension was fleeing him quickly, allowing him to relax into the embrace.

“You know that I was perfectly willing not to have kids for the sake of your mother’s health, right?” Draco asked quietly.

Scorpius stared in front of him but let his head rest against his father’s chest. He had known that, but he often chose not to think about it.

“Yes,” he said.

Draco rubbed his arm and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Scorpius squeezed his eyes shut, soaking in the show of affection that was still rare for the two of them.

“Your mother may have been the one who insisted on having you, but she did so because she knew how desperately both of us wanted you. If all I wanted was an heir, Scorpius, I never would have agreed with your mother, but I didn’t want an heir. I wanted a child. Before you were born, my biggest fear was that you’d grow up and not love me as I did you because of my past, because I didn’t know how to show you that I cared, because of many things. That scared me more than anything. Not once did I consider it possible that you’d disappoint me because I knew there was no way you could do that.”

Scorpius pulled back from their embrace to look up at Draco, tears sparkling in his eyes. Draco was still smiling, even as a few tears fell down his cheeks.

“The idea of you ever thinking I’d be unhappy with you or, Merlin forbid, ashamed of you… That’s not possible, Scorpius.”

Scorpius’ first sob broke free. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, burying his face in his chest. Draco’s grip on him tightened, holding him in place, and even as Scorpius continued to cry, he felt more at ease than he’d been since arriving home from Hogwarts.

His legs no longer felt like jelly, liable to give out at any moment. They were solid and sure, capable of holding and supporting him like they were meant to.


End file.
